"Jerry Dawson," was Dave Dashaway's reply.

CHAPTER XV

AT THE AERODROME

"That is the machine I want, Mr. Randolph," said Dave Dashaway.

It was two days after the young aviator had told his friends at Columbus the name of the person he suspected of stealing the aero-hydroplane, the Drifter from the Interstate Aeroplane Company.

Now, he and Hiram and the manager of the Interstate plant stood amid the half hundred or more aero machines that comprised the stock of one of the largest factories in that line in the country.

They had left the aero meet at Columbus the evening previous, not, however, until Dave had explained how he came to suspect Jerry Dawson.

"It's simple and plain, Mr. King," the young aviator had said. "The badge I bought from the tramp at Bolton was the property of young Dawson."

"Sure of that, Dashaway?" Mr. King had inquired.

"Oh, yes. The initials are crude, but they certainly stand for 'J.

D.' and not 'T. O.' as the tramp thought."

An inspection of the duplicate badge by both Mr. King and Hiram satisfied them that Dave's theory was correct.

"Another thing," Dave had added--"the coat found on the barb wire top of the factory fence I have seen Jerry wear many a time."

"And the card?" pressed Hiram.

"The card has some scrawls on it, made by Jerry, I think. It shows a sort of rough outline of the upper lake district here. Some arrows show a straight course due northwest. I believe the Drifter was started on its way over the Canadian border."

"And the two men with Jerry?" asked Mr. King.

"I can't figure out that they could be anybody but Jerry's father and the man who left Columbus with them--Ridgely."

"The man the revenue officer was looking for!" exclaimed Hiram.

"The smuggler, as he was called, yes," replied Dave.

Mr. King and Hiram indulged in all kinds of conjectures as to the possible motive of the party of three in stealing the aircraft.

"The way I figure it out," said Mr. King, "is that this Ridgely wanted to get out of the country knowing that the revenue people were dose on his trail."

"Perhaps," agreed Dave thoughtfully. "There's another thing, though."

"What's that?" inquired the interested Hiram.

"His coming all the way around the lakes to find his friends, the Dawsons, looks as though he had some future scheme in view, with an airship a part of it."

"That's so," a.s.sented Mr. King. "Well, Dashaway, you have done famously so far in finding out what you have. The Interstate people think the only way to chase the fugitives is with one of their own machines. I don't know anybody better adapted to do just that than yourself."

"Thank you, Mr. King," said Dave modestly

The two boys left Columbus with pretty clear minds. They had a definite purpose in view, and Mr. King, Dave felt sanguine, would do all that the interests of Mr. Dale required while they were gone.

"Say, Dave," spoke Hiram, as they boarded the train bound for Bolton, "this is just like acting out some story, isn't it?"

"In a way," acquiesced the young aviator, "only there won't be much acting--it will be real, earnest hard work."

"I see that, and I am anxious to do my share," declared Hiram.

"You always are, Hiram," said Dave.

Now, the morning following, the two aviator friends found themselves at the Interstate factory, where both received a warm welcome from Mr. Randolph.

Dave now related to the manager all that he had held back during his first visit to the great plant.

"I say, Dashaway, that's simply wonderful," was Mr. Randolph's enthusiastic comment. "Anybody with the genius to gather up all those clews cannot fail to work out this entire case. We shall soon receive some great reports from you."

"I hope so," said Dave.

"Now then, you and your friend go over to the aerodrome and see which one of our machines there suits you best."

It was after Dave and Hiram had spent the most fascinating half hour of their lives viewing the wonders of mechanism on display, that the manager rejoined them. It was then, too, that Dave reported to him with the words:

"That is the machine I want, Mr. Randolph."

As Dave spoke he pointed to a monoplane of which he had made a close inspection for over ten minutes. The manager burst out into a hearty laugh.

"Well, well!" he cried, clapping Dave on the shoulder in an approving way, "I must say you are certainly a grand judge of monoplanes."

"How is that?" asked Dave.

"You have picked out the best machine in the place."

"Why, I was looking for the best one, wasn't I, Mr. Randolph?" asked the young aviator with a smile.

"It is our new model of the composite hydro-aeroplane," explained the manager. "It's the best standard built in this country--the Monarch II."

"It's easy to see that," responded Dave. "It is the equal of the Drifter in a great many ways."

"That is true," replied Mr. Randolph. "While it may not be as swift in the water as an all-steel hydro, it is built on the best float system and will sustain a weight of one thousand three hundred pounds."

"And the front elevation and tail are also of the newest type," said Dave.

"You studied that out, eh? It's a model of lightness as such machines go. The engine is only three hundred pounds, it carries twenty gallons of gasoline, and has a lifting capacity of twelve hundred pounds, giving leeway for a three hundred pound pilot."